


Over and Over

by Jadelyn



Series: Puppy [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Collars, Dom/sub, Gentle Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like my ability to think of clever ways to end this phrase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadelyn/pseuds/Jadelyn
Summary: Jaskier decides to explore the limits of the infamous Witcher stamina.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Puppy [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950391
Comments: 27
Kudos: 293





	Over and Over

**Author's Note:**

> I liiiiiiive! I know it's been a minute since the last update to this series. My motivation to write has...not returned from the war, but it wrote me a very nice letter from the front lines, which gave me just enough Go Juice to finish this and get it posted.
> 
> For a request/prompt from ivyraven in comments on Of Senses and Safewords. Hope this hits the spot!

"Something occurred to me recently," Jaskier said, almost idly, as his hands finished buckling the collar around Geralt's throat.

"Hmm?" Geralt wasn't paying too much attention to Jaskier's words just then. Just putting the collar on was enough to make him start to slide down into that quiet place in his mind, these days.

Jaskier sat back and smiled down at him. It had wicked edges. "Yes. I realized that I've quite thoroughly tested your ability to hold back, to refrain from coming - but I haven't tried going the other way. We've never explored the limits of that famed witcher stamina."

_That_ got Geralt's attention.

The wicked smile bloomed into a full grin. "Tonight we're going to see just how many times you can come in a night." Jaskier hooked a finger through the ring at the front of the collar and pulled Geralt up into a messy kiss, biting his lower lip. "And then we're going to keep going." Geralt's breath caught sharply and Jaskier laughed, warm and mischievous. "Oh, pet, I can't wait to see you come apart for me, overwhelmed by pleasure."

Geralt made a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, desperate and needy.

"Sounds like you're looking forward to it, too," Jaskier said. He sat back in his chair, taking a vial of oil from the table beside him and uncorking it. "Hand," he said.

Obediently Geralt held out his right hand, palm up. Jaskier let a drizzle of oil fall to coat the calloused skin, then corked the vial and leaned back, almost lounging in the surprisingly plush cushions of the sturdy armchair as he gazed down at his witcher.

"We'll start off simple," Jaskier said. "Hand on your cock, puppy. Put on a show for me."

Geralt did as Jaskier said, of course. Biting his lip, he curled his slick hand around his length, looking up at Jaskier with wide eyes as he started to stroke himself. He shifted a little, only half-aware of doing it, spreading his legs some and leaning back, free hand bracing against his own ankle. Displaying himself better for Jaskier's enjoyment.

"Good boy," Jaskier whispered. Geralt's hips jerked upward at that, fucking into the tight channel of his hand. "You like being good for me, don't you, pup?"

"Yes, sir." The words were more groaned than spoken. His mouth hung open slightly, as though he couldn't quite remember how to close it.

Jaskier smiled and hummed a pleased-sounding acknowledgement. "Tell me, puppy: what's your record? What's the most number of times you've come in one night?"

"F-five," Geralt stammered. Jaskier nodded, still smiling, but his fingers flicked in a gesture urging Geralt to continue. "It was…Eskel and I had just passed our final Trials, we were going to be setting out on the Path soon. And we weren't students anymore, weren't trainees. If we decided to spend a whole night together, nobody could stop us anymore. So…we did."

The almost purr-like moan Jaskier let out made Geralt shudder, his hand moving faster for a few seconds before he got himself back under control. Jaskier’s goal for the evening was to have him coming multiple times, but Geralt knew better than to think that meant he could just come whenever he liked.

"Did you fuck him?" Jaskier's voice was low and honeyed, yet still commanding for all that.

"Yes."

"Come inside him?"

"Yes." Geralt's hand sped up again at the memory.

"And did you let him fuck you?"

"Yes!" He was thrusting up into his hand steadily now.

"Let him come inside you?"

"Yes!" Geralt cried. "Fuck, Jas, please…"

"Not yet. How many times did you come that way?"

"T-twice."

"Did he suck you off, let you come in his mouth?"

"Yes…" Ragged, panting breaths seared his throat. He was so fucking close.

"That's four. And the fifth?" Jaskier was leaning forward now, licking his lips as he watched Geralt struggle to hold back.

"His…his hand. In me. All of it. Like - like you did, that one time. He wanted to, so I…I let…Jas, _please_ …"

"Come for me."

Geralt tumbled over the edge almost immediately, throwing his head back with a short, choked cry. He retained just enough presence of mind to angle his grip on his cock so that he painted his own chest with his spend. He knew Jaskier always liked to see that.

Jaskier made a lovely, satisfied sound as he watched Geralt gasp and moan through his first orgasm of the night, but it turned into a chiding _tsk_ as Geralt's hand fell still. Geralt lifted his head with an effort and gave Jaskier a worried look.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Jaskier asked with a pointed glance down. Geralt bit his lip, shook his head and started moving his hand along his shaft again, though slower this time. "Better," Jaskier said, stern look softening. "I want you to have some kind of stimulation at all times tonight, pup. If I'm not doing anything to you, I expect you to go back to touching yourself unless I say otherwise. Clear?"

A shiver ran down Geralt's spine at that. "Yes, sir," he said.

Jaskier graced him with a smile then. "Good boy." Reaching forward, Jaskier caught the ring on Geralt's collar and pulled him to kneel up between Jaskier's legs, then leaned back and tugged him further up and forward.

Geralt followed willingly but a little awkwardly, unsure where Jaskier wanted him and more than a little distracted by the slick slide of his own hand over his cock. But with a little nudging and pushing Jaskier got him kneeling over the bard's lap, knees on the wide arms of the chair holding Geralt aloft rather than letting him settle onto Jaskier's lap.

Lute-calloused fingers stroked up and down over the taut muscle of Geralt's thighs. "I'm glad I sweet-talked us into this nicer room," he said with a grin. "The second I saw this chair I knew I wanted to have you up here like this at some point in the evening."

Geralt didn't get a chance to reply before Jaskier was moving him further, guiding him to kneel up, which put his cock inches from Jaskier's face. Jaskier batted his hand away from where he was still touching himself, then put out his tongue and kitten-licked the head of Geralt's cock, tongue swiping through the fresh precome already welling from his slit.

It forced a sudden gasp from the witcher and an involuntary jerk of his hips, a new surge of clear fluid dribbling from the tip. Geralt cursed.

Jaskier laughed smugly, even as his hands came up and steadied Geralt's hips. "Brace your hands on the back of the chair, pet. And hold still - no thrusting, understood?"

Geralt whined through his teeth but nodded, gripping onto the tall back of the chair.

A delicate, warning scrape of teeth against the flushed head of his prick. "Words, puppy."

A sharp huff of air punched its way out of Geralt's chest. "Y-yes," he managed, hands tightening on the chair back. "Yes, sir," he added, not wanting to give Jaskier anything to criticize.

"Very good," Jaskier praised. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into the front of Geralt's hips.

Geralt’s thighs shook and he felt a little dizzy as he looked down at Jaskier. It took every ounce of control he possessed to stay still as that devilish tongue flicked against his cock again. With all his control dedicated to not moving, there was nothing left to keep his voice in check, and he let out a sound that was something akin to a whimper, unable to stop himself.

But it was all right. Something in that clearly pleased Jaskier, who grinned up at Geralt and leaned in, taking half his length in one swift movement. Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he groaned, then forced his eyes to open again so he could see the incredible sight below him.

Jaskier was playing that aspect up, of course. Ever the consummate performer. Blue eyes sparkled mischievously up at him, holding direct eye contact as the bard hollowed his cheeks and slipped a little further down.

“Fuck,” Geralt breathed, halfway to undone again already just from that sight. Sometimes the first climax of an evening helped take the edge off and made the next one a slower and more drawn-out process; other nights, it only kicked his senses into overdrive and rendered him even more sensitive for the next round and the one after that. This was clearly to be the latter kind of evening - which, he supposed, suited Jaskier’s plans perfectly.

The thought of that goal for the night only pushed him further. Luckily Jaskier chose just then to pull off and tease a bit more, ducking down to lavish attention on his balls instead. Geralt sucked in a harsh, shuddering breath, hands tightening on the back of the chair until the wood fairly creaked under the pressure of his grip. It helped steady him a little, although not much when balanced against the feeling of Jaskier’s mouth, hot and wet, sliding against his balls. Jaskier looked up coyly and made direct eye contact as he sucked first one, then the other, into his mouth, and the sight was so obscenely erotic it tore a breathless cry from Geralt's throat.

Jaskier pulled off and grinned, almost unbearably smug. "I love the sounds you make for me, pet." He licked a slow, teasing stripe up the underside of Geralt's cock. "Give me more of them," he demanded, and swallowed him down to the root.

Geralt shouted, at that, practically convulsing with the sudden pleasure of it. Jaskier moaned approvingly, drew back a little, and did it again.

"Oh, gods," Geralt rasped. " _Fuck_. Jas, Jaskier - sir, _please_ , I'm - I need - please let me." As always, the sound of his own voice undone and wanting sent a delicious surge of shame through him. He was a witcher, a thing crafted for strength and speed and made to be as deadly as possible, trained and taught to always be in control of himself and his environment, lest his lapse in control get someone killed.

But here, with Jaskier, he could let himself be something else. He could be vulnerable, even weak, could let himself follow instead of lead, and it was _safe_. If he was reduced to desperate pleading, if his voice broke under the strain of _needing_ so badly, it didn't matter. Jaskier would gather up the shattered shards of Geralt's pride and dignity and reserve and keep them safe until it was time to take them back again.

"Please," he gasped again and again, as Jaskier's mouth slid up and down his cock, pleasure ratcheting higher with each stroke. "Please, please, please, please…"

Jaskier didn't stop, didn't let up. It felt like every single muscle Geralt had from his knees to his shoulders was wound tight enough to snap with the effort of holding back.

And then finally, finally Jaskier pulled off, gave him a smoldering look, and demanded, "Come, pup."

Jaskier barely got his lips around Geralt's cock again before he was obeying, a choked cry falling from his lips and cock throbbing as he spent himself into the wet heat of Jaskier’s mouth.

Only Jaskier didn't stop. He sucked and swallowed through it until Geralt was shivering and almost twitching at each movement of Jaskier’s tongue against oversensitive flesh…and then continued. It dragged a sound out of Geralt that sounded too high to have come from his voice, but it had, and he made the same sound again as Jaskier’s mouth moved unrelentingly over his cock.

Geralt was shaking so hard he was afraid he was going to simply collapse soon by the time Jaskier finally let up several minutes later. Jaskier grinned up at him, licking his lips, but then something in his eyes warmed a little and he gently eased Geralt back to sit on his heels, still balanced over Jaskier's lap but a much easier position to hold.

"Hand," Jaskier reminded him, reaching behind his own head to gently pry one of Geralt's hands free from where he still clutched the back of the chair like his life depended on it.

Geralt tried - and failed - to suppress a shameful whimper as Jaskier guided his hand down to curl around his shaft, but he dutifully stroked himself. This was what Jaskier wanted, and Geralt just wanted to be good for him. So even as his hips twitched backward involuntarily, trying to get away from further stimulation, Geralt forced himself to keep going.

"Goodness, pet," Jaskier said, watching with delight the way Geralt's breath hitched as Jaskier lightly trailed calloused fingertips over the sensitive head of his cock. "Only two and you're already so overwhelmed."

"I can keep going," Geralt said hastily. He didn't want to disappoint. "I -"

Jaskier hushed him with a smile. "Shh, puppy. It's all right, I know you can." There was something soft, almost reverent in his expression as he reached up with his other hand and cupped Geralt's flushed cheek. Geralt tilted his head and nuzzled into the touch without thinking. "It wasn't a complaint, pet. I like seeing you so overwrought for me. This is exactly what I want from you tonight."

Geralt's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. A shuddering sigh rushed out of him. "Good?" he asked, needing to hear the confirmation.

"Oh, yes, my sweet," Jaskier said immediately. " _So_ good, doing _so_ well for me. My good boy."

Geralt shivered at that, a pleased little hum escaping his lips. He pried his eyes open as he felt Jaskier's hand leave his face, watching the bard reach for the bottle of oil again.

Only this time, Jaskier coated his own fingers in the slippery substance. Geralt bit his lip, knowing what that betokened.

Sure enough, Jaskier reached down between his legs and slick fingertips circled Geralt's entrance. He groaned as one pressed in, slowly, Jaskier making sure he felt every single second of the way his body yielded to the intrusion.

"I love the way you take me so easily," Jaskier murmured. "Your body knows this is what you're meant for, to let go and give yourself to me, isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir." Geralt forced the words out with an effort. He was sucking in air in short, shallow gasps as Jaskier worked his finger in deeper, then withdrew completely before pressing in all the way to the knuckle. Geralt made a soft, helpless sound of want, spine arching and head tipped back, and ground his hips down onto Jaskier's hand as though he could somehow take it even deeper.

"Beautiful," Jaskier said, almost reverently. His free hand skimmed up over the taut muscles of Geralt's abdomen, fingers raking lightly through his chest hair before curling through the ring of his collar. It only took the merest suggestion of pressure to guide his witcher down into a kiss.

Jaskier broke the kiss but didn't let go of the collar. He crooked his finger inside Geralt, feeling the jolt that ran through him at it even held in place as he was, caught between the finger in his arse and the fingers holding his collar.

"Jas," Geralt said. His eyes were wide and dark, hazy with arousal, mouth open a little and panting.

Jaskier pressed against that spot again just for the pleasure of watching from up close the way Geralt's eyes rolled back, hearing the choked whimper deep in his throat. "Yes?" he asked as he let off the pressure and drew back til only the tip of his finger was still inside, then pushed a second fingertip in alongside the first. He kept his voice light, a little teasing, edged with condescension the way he knew his darling witcher loved so much when they played like this.

Geralt moaned at the stretch of a second finger, words forgotten for the moment.

Jaskier chuckled. "What was that, puppy? Did you want to say something?" He waited til Geralt drew breath to try to speak, then rubbed the pads of both fingers over his sweet spot again, turning the aborted attempt at speech into a helpless, inarticulate cry. Jaskier laughed again. "Use your words, pup," he taunted Geralt, feeling like he was flying on the incredible high of having his stoic, reserved witcher shaking and whimpering in his lap like this.

"Jas, _please_ ," Geralt blurted, feeling half-wild with need. His hand moved faster over his cock without thinking, the stimulation both too much and not enough at once. "Please, I need…I need…"

Suddenly and without warning, Jaskier pulled his fingers out completely, only to immediately and forcefully slide three fingers in all the way to the knuckle. "More?" he suggested sweetly, the word half-lost as Geralt keened.

"Yes," the witcher all but sobbed, eyes squeezed shut, hand flying over his cock. "Please, please Jas, can I…I'm so close, I need…please let me c-come!" He heard the stutter in his own voice, the way it cracked, and couldn’t bring himself to care. He was breaking apart, breaking and falling, and it didn’t matter, none of it mattered but the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers inside him and the steady, unyielding grip at his neck and the pleasure burning through him as he waited on Jaskier’s word.

Jaskier growled, the sound unexpectedly low and feral. “So pretty when you beg,” he said roughly. “Go on, then.”

The reaction was instantaneous. A choked, broken moan, a shudder that tore its way down from Geralt’s hunched shoulders to his bucking hips, and he was spilling over his own fingers, balls tight and aching and hole spasming around Jaskier’s fingers. He was left dizzy and gasping for breath by the time it was done, unspeakably grateful for the grounding weight of Jaskier’s hand, which had let go of the collar in favor of curling around the back of his neck, under his hair.

“That’s it, perfect, darling. So beautiful, pet. Don’t stop,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt barely heard the words over his own ragged breathing, but he obeyed anyway. Sparks of hot pain-pleasure skittered up his spine as he forced his hand to keep working over his cock. A faint, helpless whine slipped from his lips.

But it made Jaskier groan softly to hear it. “Good boy,” he said. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Geralt nodded, eyes still closed. “So much,” he replied. “Please, Jas…”

“Not yet, puppy,” Jaskier said. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“No, not -” Geralt blinked his eyes open, forced himself to focus on Jaskier. “Just - I need, could I - more oil? Please?”

Jaskier smiled. “Of course, love.” His hand left Geralt’s neck and plucked the vial from the table. For a moment Geralt worried that Jaskier might take his fingers away from where they were still spearing him open, but Jaskier only tugged the cork free with his teeth and tipped it over Geralt’s flushed prick.

Geralt let out a soft sigh of relief as the extra slick eased the way. “Thank you,” he said. It didn’t stop it from being too much, still, but it was better anyway.

“Thank you…?” Jaskier asked pointedly. Geralt started to draw breath to reply, only to lose it in a low grunt as Jaskier twisted his fingers inside him.

His hips rolled, grinding down against Jaskier’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he gasped hurriedly.

“Better, pet.” Jaskier set the vial down again and brought his hand back up to cup Geralt’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone soothingly. “I’m glad you asked for what you needed, that was very good of you.”

The praise warmed Geralt, made him want to do more, to earn more of it. He rocked down against Jaskier’s hand again, eyes slipping shut again.

Jaskier chuckled. “Go on, then. Fuck yourself on my fingers, puppy.”

Biting his lip, Geralt obeyed, shifting his weight a little until he found the angle that let Jaskier’s fingertips glide across his sweet spot each time. His breath caught and he moved faster, thighs trembling but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop, Jaskier wanted to see this, he…

“Look at me,” Jaskier said, soft but commanding nonetheless. Geralt pried heavy lids open and met Jaskier’s gaze, hungry and possessive. “Good boy,” Jaskier said, sending another shiver through his witcher. “I love seeing you like this,” he continued, “so beautifully worked-up for me, and you’re so far down, aren’t you, pet? You can barely think, can you? But that’s all right, you don’t need to, after all. You only need to do as I tell you, like a good pup, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier’s words wrapped around his mind and deepened the haze he was in, and it was so good that he could happily drift in it and never come back out. He sped up again, hand and hips both, breathing hard through softly parted lips.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” Jaskier asked, lips curving in a satisfied smile.

Geralt nodded. Fuck, it was too much, it hurt almost as much as it felt good, but he couldn’t stop himself from chasing his peak again. “Yes, sir,” he managed to say roughly.

"So quickly," Jaskier marveled. "You must be so very sensitive by now. Does it hurt, pup?"

"Y-yes, sir." He tilted his face into Jaskier's hand, pressing sloppy, desperate kisses to his palm.

"Mmm." Jaskier was practically purring. "But you're going to come again anyway, aren't you? Because I want you to, and you want to be good for me, don't you, my sweet puppy?"

"Yes, want…want to be, to be good for you, please let me - Jas, please -” He wanted to come. He didn’t want to come. He didn’t know _what_ the fuck he wanted, except that he wanted to be good, wanted to give Jaskier anything he wanted, everything he asked for. Slick, lute-calloused fingers slid in and out of his arse with each movement, though his rhythm was faltering as he got close to the edge, and he could barely force himself to keep his eyes open, keep looking at Jaskier like he’d asked.

“Oh, you are, pet. You are,” Jaskier assured him. “So very good. Going to come so pretty for me, hm?”

He didn’t give Geralt a chance to reply, crooking his fingers and smirking. “Now,” he ordered.

Geralt stilled and shook, choking on a gasp, coming almost silently, too overwhelmed for anything else. It was nearly dry, only a few meagre spurts of seed dribbling from the tip of his cock onto his fingers, and he ached with each helpless throb.

Jaskier sighed with satisfaction, smiling as Geralt continued to stroke himself even after his orgasm had run its course - slowly and reluctantly, but without needing any prompting to keep going. “We’ve run you dry, hm?”

“Seems - seems so,” Geralt agreed. There wasn’t enough air in the room, somehow. But it didn’t matter - Jaskier guided him down to rest his forehead against Jaskier’s shoulder, and that was more than enough. He turned his head and breathed in, surrounded by Jaskier’s scent. Maybe that’s where all the air had gone.

Slowly, gently, Jaskier withdrew his fingers from Geralt’s arse, shushing the soft sound of protest this provoked. He reached for the towel he’d set within arm’s reach before beginning and wiped oil from his hand, the other hand stroking Geralt’s hair, then settled his newly clean hand on the small of the witcher’s back.

“All right, love?” he asked, keeping his voice pitched low so as not to overwhelm Geralt’s senses.

“Hmm.” It was more exhalation than vocalization, though at least it _sounded_ contented. But before Jaskier could do more than draw breath to remind him of what was needed, Geralt roused himself enough to add, “Yeah. ‘m good.”

“Good boy,” Jaskier said. “You’re doing so well, pet.” He smiled a little at the shiver that his words produced, but then grew serious. “Geralt.”

“Hmm?”

Jaskier chose not to argue the point on ‘words’ for that one. “Look at me, pup,” he said, tugging lightly at Geralt’s hair.

Geralt lifted his head and gave Jaskier a look that was equal parts irritation and contentment. Jaskier’s lips twitched. “You’ve done so well for me tonight, darling,” he said, “but I need to check in with you before we continue. Do you need to stop?”

The look of irritation melted into one of impossible fondness, and Geralt shook his head.

“You’re sure?” Jaskier pressed, knowing his witcher’s tendency to push himself with occasionally-reckless disregard for his own needs, in order to give Jaskier what he asked for. “You’re not too sensitive?” He slipped his hand around from the small of Geralt’s back, over the sharp cut of his hip, and nudged the other’s hand out of the way to take him in hand and work over his length a few times.

Geralt jerked sharply at that, eyes falling shut and sucking in a harsh breath. But a moment later his eyes opened, and he was only about as hazy as he usually was when they played this way - not dangerously absent the way he sometimes got when he pushed himself too hard. He even smiled faintly. “‘s a lot but not - not _too_ much.”

Jaskier watched him for a moment longer, swiping a thumb up over the head of his cock on one stroke to watch him twitch at it before deciding to take him at his word. “In that case, puppy, I’m not done with you yet.”

Gods, but he loved watching Geralt’s pupils go from half-round to nearly swallowing the entirety of his golden irises in an instant, especially when Jaskier himself was the cause of it.

It took some doing to get them from chair to bed, with how Geralt’s legs trembled like a foal’s when he first stood up, but Jaskier had years of practice witcher-wrangling under much less pleasant circumstances and barely batted an eye at it. (In fact, he found the sight of his fawn-legged witcher to be outright endearing, though he’d never tell Geralt that. Jaskier liked his balls where they were, thanks.)

And besides, the sweetly desperate little sounds Geralt made as Jaskier lined himself up and slowly pressed into him were well worth an awkward moment or two. Geralt muffled the sounds into the blankets for a moment, hands twisting into the bedding in a bid to lessen the overstimulation of Jaskier’s cock filling his aching and sensitive passage, until Jaskier landed a smart tap on his arse in reprimand.

Oh, _that_ was a new sound.

To be explored later, Jaskier decided, in the last instant before he was thoroughly distracted by Geralt rocking back into the impact and impaling himself even further onto Jaskier’s cock. It had had the intended effect anyway, the next low groan fully audible as it fell from bitten-red lips.

“Better, pet,” Jaskier soothed, sliding a hand up Geralt’s heaving side. “You know I like hearing you.”

Too overwrought for words, Geralt simply nodded, eyes tightly shut.

Jaskier rocked back, slow and deliberate, withdrawing until only the head of his cock was still buried in the witcher, and waited.

It only took a second for Geralt to try to shove himself back, whining.

“What is it, pup?” Jaskier asked, letting condescension drip thick through his voice. He’d seen what that patronizing tone did to his darling.

Sure enough, a visible shudder took Geralt at that. “Please,” he groaned. “Jas, please, I - f-fuck me, please.”

“We-ell…” Jaskier said, drawing the word out. He waited until Geralt drew breath to ask again, then slammed in to the hilt with as much force as he could manage, the slap of skin against slicked skin making a truly filthy sound in the otherwise-quiet room.

The cry Geralt let out could very nearly be called a scream, Jaskier thought hazily, trying to distract himself enough not to come on the spot. He snaked a hand down around Geralt’s hip and took his cock in hand.

“Come whenever you like,” he instructed.

It only took a few tugs of his hand and one more borderline-violent thrust to have Geralt shaking and howling with the combined pain and pleasure as he came again. His hole spasmed around Jaskier’s cock and his prick throbbed against Jaskier’s palm, his body trying in vain to paint the bed with spend even though there was nothing left to give.

“So worked up, my pretty pet,” Jaskier said. “It’s taking less and less to get you there, I think.” He let go of Geralt’s cock and began to move more steadily, setting a pace he could maintain for at least a few minutes, though he was already pretty worked up himself. Curling his hands over Geralt’s hips, he adjusted the angle until he felt the witcher jolt and tighten hard around him. “Right there, hmm?” It wasn’t really a question.

Jaskier sped up a little, though he still held back. He wanted to get at least one more out of Geralt before they were done for the night. “I wonder, puppy,” he said, managing to keep his tone almost conversational even over the steady stream of whimpers and moans Geralt was letting out. “I wonder if there would be a point where we could just…keep you on the edge, even immediately after you came, every time. Never let you back down from it, wringing one climax after another out of you with no real recovery between them.”

Geralt shoved himself back into Jaskier’s thrusts hard, almost desperately, gasping for breath, lost in the fantasy the bard’s words painted for them both. Jaskier groaned, nearing his own climax. “One more, pup,” he coaxed. “Can you do that for me? Come one more time for me, darling. Give me one more.”

"I - I don't…don't think I…" Geralt mumbled into the blanket even as he rocked back onto Jaskier's cock.

"Yes, you can," Jaskier encouraged him. "For me, pet. Just once more. I want to feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. If you can be a good boy and do that for me, I'll come inside you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Geralt made a desperate, helpless noise. "Yes," he said. "Jas, please…"

Jaskier opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak Geralt stiffened beneath him, cried out his name in a soft, broken voice, and came. He tightened around Jaskier's cock almost brutally hard, so tight it was a struggle to keep thrusting through it.

"Yes," Jaskier hissed, tossing his head back. His fingers dug deep into Geralt's hips, nails cutting in, as he thrust once, twice more before stilling as the sweet clutch of his lover's body milked his own climax from him.

Geralt keened, shaking almost convulsively at the hot rush of Jaskier’s spend pumping into him. He couldn't breathe as Jaskier filled him, caught in the grip of either a powerful aftershock or one additional, final orgasm. He was dimly aware of Jaskier gasping out a litany of praise above him, but parsing individual words was well beyond his capabilities for the moment, so he simply relaxed into it and let it soothe him like a warm bath on sore muscles.

He noticed, in a vague sort of way, when Jaskier pulled out, the softly aching emptiness left behind as Jaskier's hands guided him to lie flat on the bed. But he was floating in that wonderful haze where things like cleanup and sundry other practicalities didn't matter, so he simply stayed still where Jaskier had put him and let himself drift til the bard came back.

There were damp cloths then, and salve, which felt so nice as Jaskier applied it that Geralt found himself pushing back into the touch until Jaskier chuckled and swatted at his bum. Geralt huffed, but subsided.

Time passed, or maybe it didn’t. There was still a candle lit when Geralt woke, pleasantly sore but clean and dry and warm, Jaskier’s chest against his back and lute-calloused fingertips splayed over his belly. He let out a soft, contented sigh, and felt Jaskier stir behind him.

“Back with me, sweetheart?” Jaskier’s voice was low and warm, murmured in his ear, and Geralt felt it spread a gentle glow through his very bones.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling and sated and happier than he’d been in a long time. He summoned the energy to turn over in order to look at Jaskier, wanting to see the pleased look he usually had after a good session.

Sure enough, Jaskier was looking at him with that particular mix of pride and satisfaction and tenderness that Geralt had long since learned he’d do damn near anything to earn. Jaskier traced the edge of the collar still wrapped snugly about Geralt’s throat. “Ready for it to come off?”

Geralt thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Jaskier never took it off without checking first; sometimes Geralt wanted to stay in that soft headspace longer, which the collar helped with, and Jaskier would let him keep it on for a while. This time, though, he would be feeling the effects for a while even without it, and he’d sleep more comfortably with it off.

When the collar was sitting on the bedside table, Jaskier blew out the candle and turned back and nudged Geralt into the position they’d woken up in, settling down to sleep.

Drowsy and warm, Geralt murmured into the darkness, “Good?”

Jaskier’s breath was warm on the back of his neck as his lips moved against the sensitive skin. “So very good, love.”

Geralt slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL. GO READ ["Take The King"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774545), THE COMPANION PIECE/PERSPECTIVE-SWAP THAT LEMON WROTE FOR THIS. It is a gorgeous (and incredibly hot) look into the dom's mindset, written in a way I could never even hope to do. Lem you are a goddamn delight and a blessing and ilu

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Take the King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774545) by [yolkipalki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolkipalki/pseuds/yolkipalki)




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